Originally Posted by
roryman
And then the world comes along and cuts it down like a big fucking lawnmower!
I sincerley hope there isnt a bit of Yates in you, Westie!
Cos Andrea Yates drowned her 5 young children!
I think you are referring to the poet, Yeats and I'm sorry to say that comparing your, how shall we say kindly? "Witterings" to such epics as.....
We rode in sorrow, with strong hounds three,
Bran, Sgeolan, and Lomair,
On a morning misty and mild and fair.
The mist-drops hung on the fragrant trees,
And in the blossoms hung the bees.
We rode in sadness above Lough Lean,
For our best were dead on Gavra's green
or
Now that my ladder's gone
I must lie down where all the ladders start
In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.
Is like comparing a pair of my best brown XXL underpants (5 for 10 euro from Penneys) to french haute couture.
But God loves a tryer, so witter on, you poor romantic fool you, witter on!
(I could of course "witter on" myself about how Valentine's Day has been adapted from its original form to todays incarnation, and found its place as a relationship breather, in which we can all stop and think about just how much we love and appreciate our nearest and dearest amongst the hustle and bustle of modern society)
(Or you can just look at my jiggling tits!)
PS
Thanks for the "addicted moniker" Its funny cos its true!